What Doesn't Kill Us
by Willecho
Summary: He never thought anyone would catch on. Scout x Sniper.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One - The Beginning**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"You failed."

It had been a long, shitty Thursday, and the RED team had lost once again, a failure at Payload Upward. What a way to live your life, defending a cart with possibly a corpse in it by killing the people pushing it. And failing.

Once the members of RED had put their weapons and other miscellaneous battle supplies away, they went back to the base.

The entire team. Except Sniper.

Others found this unusual; some plain weird. Heavy had before questioned him about why he chose to be alone when he could be with his friends. No clear answer came out of it, and never again did someone try asking the bushman.

There would always be things that Scout wouldn't understand, like math, but this one irked him the most. He decided to let it rest yet again this time - he had many times before - but he promised that he'd confront him one day. For now, he would go up to his room before dinner, an event where he likely wouldn't see Sniper again.

Not that he minded his absence.

Lying again?

Scout had secretly admired the Sniper from afar for such a long time, too many months to count by now. His concentration made him look so attractive, so right and so perfect.

It pained his heart when Sniper refused to go inside with them. It made him feel like he wasn't good enough for him to do an act as simple as that. These things always made him feel absolutely worthless. Especially when the person who made him feel like that was his favorite person on the planet.

Nothing particularly awful happened that night.

/\/\/\/\

It was never easy. Being hired to fight a war halfway across the country, not easy. At least he didn't have it quite as bad as the Russian fat ass. That was halfway across the world, though everyone suspected Pyro to be from halfway across the galaxy. Yet Boston to New Mexico was still a long way. Still, the Scout liked to be away from home. It wasn't that he didn't love his ma and his seven brothers. But there was something about knowing no one could barge into your room at midnight and ask why you're still awake.

That being said, Scout wished he was home.

The base didn't feel like home to him, even though he knew it has been and still will be for years. They all knew the war wasn't ending anytime soon.

Scout was the youngest mercenary. Twenty seven. More than anything, even more than the pain of respawn, he hated being called a kid. His teammates called him that so often (Well, Soldier called him "son," which wasn't much better), yet he never got used to it. He hated it that much.

Somehow, Scout didn't feel bad for being such a prick to the other mercs. With his fake confidence, you wouldn't know how much he really hated himself. He didn't have to be nice to any of them either way. They all took the job to get paid, nothing more. None of them owed each other anything.

Today, the teams were going to Upward. It was one of the closest maps to the base, being a desert and all, but they still took a train thing. Train isn't really the right word since there were no tracks, but it was still bigger than a car.

No one talked on the way there. They didn't understand the point. How was repeatedly going to kill a bunch of guys who would just respawn in a few seconds war? How was it going to prove anything? But the mercenaries still got a fuck ton of money, so they weren't complaining about it.

Today hadn't started off as a very good day for the Scout. In the past four missions, the REDs have lost every time. And of course, Scout was constantly blamed.

"Why didn't you even make it to the intelligence room?" yelled Soldier after losing terribly at Turbine.

"Not a single kill, you disappointment," said the Spy. Spy was possibly his only teammate that was harder to deal with than Scout found himself to be.

Scout spent the short ride mentally preparing himself for the day at Upward. He had gotten used to the scoldings from his colleagues, yet there was something particularly bad about Payload. More often than not, RED was defending, something they all know the Scout was not built for, but still blame him for their losses.

It wasn't an exception to the shitty week they'd been having. Saturdays and Sundays would never have fights, so he had that to look forward to on this absolutely splendid Friday.

He'd always hide behind rocks in the front, to ambush the BLUs. He was back to back with Pyro, who he was actually friends with. They acted the same outside of battle, all childish and immature. But RED respected Pyro more still, probably because they didn't know who exactly Pyro was. Hell, Pyro could be a girl for all they knew.

The administrator's voice sounded all around Upward.

"Mission begins in 10 seconds...5, 4, 3," Pyro and Scout nodded at each other. "2, 1, FIGHT!"

The Pyro ran with their flamethrower towards the BLU respawn, killing the enemy Soldier who was previously weakened by the RED Heavy. He watched as Spy, disguised as the enemy Medic, rushed in to kill the BLU Demoman. BLU Heavy destoryed the friendly enemy Sniper had his weapon aimed at Scout, but right as he was about to shoot, he fell to the ground, bleeding from the head. Scout had no time to think about Sniper saving him. Rushing in to avenge Pyro, he bonked the BLU Heavy on the head, but didn't see the Medic so close behind him. A saw through his stomach killed him instantly.

Respawn wasn't exactly fun. Depending on how you were killed, it could be painful, or extremely painful. If you've been headshotted by a Sniper, it would fix itself quickly, and only really hurt your head. But if you got blown to bits by Soldier or Demo, pain would radiate throughout your entire being until you respawned a few moments later.

Seeing as his entire lower body was blood covered, it was painful as hell, but he had most definitely been through worse. Upon respawn, he rushed back out to the battlefield, only this time, the enemy Sniper did manage to get him. Right as he got back to the action. The administrator could be heard, telling them that the first point had been captured. Damn, that was quicker than usual. Discouraged, he rushed back again and again, but just kept getting killed. Sometime around his seventh respawn, Soldier stopped him.

"That's enough, son," he said, pushing him back with his shovel. "You've been of no help today. Go think about what you've done, you sorry excuse for a mercenary."

Scout didn't break easily, but he was so overwhelmed by the past week, he couldn't find the strength to fight back. He was just outside the respawn, so instead of continuing towards the BLUs, he went backwards.

And he cried.

Scout hated showing weakness in front of anyone, but he was in a part of the map where he knew no one would be yet, as everyone was much closer to the mine, where the cart was.

He couldn't explain why he was so weak today. Well, he didn't have any motivation. No one on the team cared about him enough to make sure he was helping. No one noticed his absence.

His crying turned into panic. It wasn't his first, but it was a bad one. With each passing second, it became more difficult to breathe. Scout picked up an old beer bottle off of the ground and smashed it into a wall, crunching the glass with his hands. He thought he was alone since he didn't hear the nearly silent footsteps.

"Scout? Oh my God, mate," said the quiet, familiar voice of Sniper. The Australian wasn't used to physical contact with anyone, but he tried to put that awkwardness aside. Scout needed it. "Hey, uh, it's okay, Scout." Seeing Sniper filled Scout with regret. Panicking wasn't something he could just put aside, but he wished he could've been stronger, at least until the mission was over.

Sniper stood there awkwardly while Scout sat with his back to a wall, head down. At least he had stopped hurting his hands. Sniper awkwardly touched Scout's shoulder, but removed his hand upon seeing that it wasn't very helpful.

"Sniper...I'm," he tried to speak in between sobs, "I'm sorry...that you have to see me..." Scout couldn't think of a more embarrassing situation that he's ever been in. His admiration for Sniper made it even worse.

"Mate, what's wrong?" he asked.

It wasn't as if there _really_ was something wrong, Scout was just so weak.

"I-I don't know...I'm so...so sorry."

"It's nothing to be sorry about. Are you okay now?"

"Y-yeah, I'm okay." Scout stood up, unable to make eye contact with Sniper.

"Let's get this cleaned up then." Sniper spoke very gently and softly, the way autumn wind sounded against the trees when all else was silent. He led the Scout to the respawn further back in the map, where no one was spawning yet, and helped change his bloodied grip tape and clean his hands.

One thing the Sniper noticed was just how soft Scout's hands were, especially compared to his rough ones.

"You ready?" Sniper said, half grinning.

"Yeah. Thanks a lot for your help, man. I don't know what got into me." Scout took off, running with his bat while Sniper climbed up high to take out the BLUs. Little did either of them know how much this would change everything.

/\/\/\/\/\

 **I don't know what this is, but maybe someone will like it?**


	2. Chapter 2

/\/\/\/\

Scout decided to skip dinner that night. He wasn't particularly hungry, but that wasn't why he went straight to his room rather than joining the team to eat. Because even though Sniper usually ate in his RV, he didn't want to take the chance of seeing him.

He couldn't bring himself to do so much as look at Sniper, he was too embarrassed by what had happened earlier that day. Someone knew that Scout didn't have all the confidence he looked like he had. In fact, he had no real confidence, just a fake demeanor. And of all the people that had to find out, it had to be him.

Of course.

Well, there was another person on base that knew it was bad. Not how bad it was, they just knew that it was bad. Fake confidence.

He didn't feel like going to the closest town, mostly because he didn't feel like he had enough energy to do so. But he also couldn't find anything interesting to do in his room. So, he laid staring at the ceiling before finally falling asleep.

/\/\/\/\

The Sniper was a rather simple man. He wasn't one to really show emotion all that often, but he knew that he was worried about Scout. Sniper didn't really consider anyone on the base to be close. He knew that it was his own fault, for being distant, literally living in a vehicle, and it didn't really upset him until now. He had actually felt something, something rare. He couldn't ignore the voice in his head calling him towards Scout's room.

/\/\/\/\

He stood in front of the door with Scout's room on the other side of it. He didn't know why he was nervous. Sniper couldn't tell if Scout was asleep or not, he could tell the lights were off but maybe Scout didn't fall asleep yet.

Holding his breath, he knocked. "Scout?" he said, barely louder than a whisper. It was only nine o'clock, he didn't see Scout as someone who would want to go to sleep early. He wasn't experienced in deep conversations but he didn't want Scout to be left alone after the events of the day.

Only a mutter could be heard from the other side of the door. "Can I come in, Scout?"

"...fine."

He opened the door slowly, closing it behind him after stepping in. Scout was in his bed, under the covers. It looked like he was about to go to sleep.

Scout was the one who decided to finally break the silence. "What do ya want, Sniper?"

The bushman scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "Just wanted to make sure you're okay, s'all..."

He let out a quiet laugh. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Scout..."

"Why do you care all of a sudden?"

Sniper was taken aback by the comment, especially since Scout had been speaking at less than a quarter of his usual volume just before. "Whaddya mean, mate?"

"What you saw earlier was nothing. It rarely ever happens..."

"So it had happened before, then."

"Well, I mean, yeah. Sniper, it's nothing to worry about."

"How come I didn't see you at dinner earlier?"

Scout hesitated before responding. "I wasn't hungry," was all he said.

"You can't just not eat."

"Get off my back, man! Already told ya, I'm fine!"

Sniper didn't want to continue the conversation. Although the Scout was clearly upset, at least he seemed okay otherwise. That was all he had come to do. "Guess I'll be leaving, then," he said, standing up.

Scout didn't say anything back to him. He had just watched from where he was in his bed, until Sniper closed the door again on his way out.

He fucking regretted it all. Why did he push him away? When he finally had a chance to talk to the only person he wanted to talk to right now. He made that person hate him.

/\/\/\/\

Upon leaving Scout's room, the Medic entered. He didn't even knock, so it must have been a pretty common thing.

Not that he cared.

He had tried to help Scout; he wanted to help someone, to be someone's friend for once, but he was pushed away yet again. It had happened so many times that it didn't sting anymore. The pain was dull. He was destined for loneliness.

/\/\/\/\

At breakfast the following day, Scout didn't see Sniper. He appeared there more often than at dinner, but not today. Maybe he was still asleep, it was a weekend after all.

After excusing himself from the table and his half eaten bowl of cereal, he went back up to his room. But yet again, he found himself bored, similar to the day before. Only this time, it wasn't quite night yet, he had woken up at ten and it was almost noon by the time he absolutely couldn't stand laying there anymore.

Unlike the previous day, he had the time and probably the energy to go into a town. Part of him wanted to drive; apart from Sniper's van, the team owned two dust covered cars in a garage rarely used, but he decided against it, setting out on his run.

/\/\/\/\

He probably reached it around two o'clock. At his arrival, he was pretty tired, but he recovered fast and thought about where to go.

Maybe he'd go see a movie? _What fun is a movie if you're watching it alone?_

Grab a bite to eat? _Surely you'll be the only independent one there..._

It wasn't a city, just a small town in the desert. He had been close to it before, had seen it on the way to a mission, but never been in it, so he knew no one there.

He went to the bar.

For being a Saturday afternoon, it was surprisingly crowded. He wished he didn't look so out of place, in his basic red shirt, while everyone else looked like a drunken cowboy with a beard. In fact, they all _were_ drunken cowboys with beards. And staring at him.

They weren't any bartenders, or anyone who looked like they worked. Just Scout and a bunch of men who looked ready to punch him to death at any moment.

"This one's mine," he heard one of them whisper to a couple others before he stood up and cracked his knuckles. He didn't look like the toughest one, but Scout had learned to not judge people based on how they look from past experiences.

As he threw a slow punch, Scout dodged it easily and quickly kicked his knees. This weak move caused him to go down.

"Anyone else?"

"Yeah..." mumbled another one. If they all came at him at once, he'd lose for sure, but he might be able to handle one at a time. The punches he threw were slow, so slow that Scout easily took him out like the previous guy. This continued, man after man, one at a time, until there was only one left. Scout threw the first punch, which was surprisingly dodged, allowing him to be kicked in the stomach. He landed on the ground as the man leaned over him menacingly.

"Nice work, Adam," said a voice from behind him. He tried to look over, but a foot was put on his chest and a blindfold over his eyes. The one called Adam grunted before roughly bringing Scout to his feet. The voice he heard was the one belonging to the first man to challenge him. Guess he wasn't really knocked out, then.

With the wind knocked out of him from that powerful kick, he no longer possessed the energy to resist being half dragged into a different room. He was thrown on the floor. The loud footsteps of the man wearing boots left the room for a moment, and a gunshot could be heard, followed by the sound of a body falling to the floor.

It didn't faze him at first, he was killed too many times to count. But the Scout never really died, no one at RED or BLU ever had. He didn't have the time to continue thinking about the wonders of respawn, the man reentered the room. He was suddenly and aggressively pulled to his feet. Before he knew it, his hands were bound to the walls and his clothes were all missing.

 **/\/\/\/\**

 **Hey y'all what the Mcfuck am I doing?**


End file.
